


In Another Life

by JollyCat



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-08 07:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5488235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JollyCat/pseuds/JollyCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between them is complicated - Captain and detective, Grimm and zauberbiest, allies, enemies, never quite friends. And sometimes, just sometimes it becomes something else...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is set in season 2, later chapters will be more up to date.

The first time it happens it begins with all the wrong reasons: anger, jealousy. Maybe even a little hate.

Nick doesn't want to go back to Monroe's, not yet. Oh, he really appreciates Monroe taking him in when he just couldn't stand to be in that house with Juliette any longer, knows that Monroe is being a good friend, trying to be kind, supportive, sympathetic. But tonight he doesn't want kindness or sympathy, doesn't want to be handled with care, poor Nick, whose girlfriend forgot his very existence. Tonight he doesn't want to be nice Nick, good Nick, keep trying to do the right thing Nick.

He could go to the trailer of course, but he doesn't want to be alone either. Doesn't want to read the books, think about the world that keeps throwing his life around. He thinks he could enjoy using the weapons, pouring out his frustrations in the release of violence, except that for once there doesn't seem to be anyone to fight. And what he wants, a part of him acknowledges, is a different kind of release. Well, he's single, free, who knows.

He walks aimlessly, downtown Portland in the rain, electricity in the air, the occasional distant rumble of thunder. It matches his mood. The rain gets heavier and he sees the bar sign. He knows the place by name, knows it's not his kind of place, too upmarket, old wood, expensive drinks. As a cop he knows it's also got a slight reputation, an edge of notoriety, not the sort of place he'd have brought Juliette, the woman who might have been his wife. Good. He turns in.

Inside it's busy but not full. Nick walks straight up to the bar, takes a stool, orders a large scotch. When it arrives he holds it in his hands for a second, as though warming them, then takes a gulp. He suspects that with the prices here he should be sipping, but he doesn't care. He rarely drinks spirits and he welcomes the burn as it goes down his throat.

There is a woman on the barstool to his right, dark haired, maybe a few years older than him. She's checking him out discreetly, eyes flickering towards him as she looks round casually. He can tell if he just catches her eye they will talk. He doesn't want to, keeps his head down. On Nick's left is a heavy set blond man, standing tapping the bar impatiently while he waits for his drink. He's well dressed, wearing too much cologne. Nick can see the indentation where his wedding ring would usually sit.

What the hell is he doing here? This isn't his kind of place, surely this isn't what he wants? Perhaps he should just go back to Monroe's, probably be able to buy a bottle of scotch for the price of a couple of drinks here. He could get really, really drunk, see if that helps. Nick lifts his glass, swallows most of what's left. The blond man next to him gets his drink, turns away, and for the first time Nick sees the man on the barstool next to him. Well, actually at first he only sees the hand holding a nearly empty glass like his own, the distinctive ring on the finger. That's enough though. Renard.

For a second he feels a huge rush of something, something he can't quite put a name to, although adrenaline is certainly there in the mix. If he'd had two drinks more he might have just turned around and punched Renard again - for wanting Juliette, for touching Juliette, for being Royal and Wesen and most of all for not telling him. As it is he just raises his eyes to meet the green ones watching his. And suddenly he knows exactly what he wants. Something he hasn't done in a long time, has never even contemplated doing with this edge of danger before.

The bartender is standing nearby. Nick looks at him,  
"Another one for me and another of whatever he's drinking."  
The bartender looks towards Renard and after a second he inclines his head fractionally in response.

The don't speak until the drinks arrive. Nick takes another healthy mouthful, Renard sips. Nick thinks this isn't Renard's second drink of the night though, he isn't quite as composed as usual, there is a look to his eyes. The top button on the pale blue shirt is undone, discreetly patterned tie loosened very slightly. On most people that would still look like formality, but not Renard. He's certainly not drunk but he's not entirely sober either. Nick asks,

"You come here often?"  
"Occasionally."  
"For any particular reason?"  
Renard holds up the glass,  
"A drink?"  
His voice makes it a question.  
"And anything else?"  
There is a pause, a hiatus.  
"Sometimes...company."  
Nick can see the tension around his mouth, in the way he's holding his glass. There is another pause, Renard takes another drink, speaks again,  
"And you? Why are you here?"  
"I wanted company too."

Nick turns on his seat, filling the space between them, and they look at each other. Nick stares into Renard's eyes then deliberately drops his gaze to Renard's mouth and slowly down. There are occasional glimpses of what Renard keeps under his expensive suits - at the gym, in the locker room - and Nick lets his eyes roam while his mind imagines. When he lifts his eyes back to meet Renard's the green eyes are dilated and the other man's breathing is slightly faster. He's sure that Renard understands exactly what is in his thoughts. Nick feels alive, as though the whisky and Renard's closeness has heated his blood, made everything clearer.

This is the moment of decision. Up until this point there has only been thought and thought can be denied, forgotten. He should drink up and go back to Monroe's, Renard should get up and walk out of the door and they can both think that on this night all they did was have a drink, sit on neighbouring bar stools. Actions are different.

Renard's hand is still resting on the bar, fingers around his glass. Nick reaches his own hand forward and touches Renard's wrist with the very tip of his finger, the tiny contact feels like a point of fire. He sees Renard swallow, knows that the other man is every bit as aware as he is that this minute but deliberate touch changes everything.

Renard moves his hand, lifts the glass to his lips and drains it, stands. Reaches into his pocket for his wallet, pulls out some money and puts it on the bar next to the empty glass.  
"There's a hotel next door, room 25. Finish your drink."  
And he walks out.

Nick feels a wave of anger, this was his game and now Renard has wrested control of it, called what might still have been a bluff. He wants to lash out at him again, fight him, like they did by the old house in the forest. Except that reminds him about the times he's thought about that night and the fantasies it provoked. Nick reaches forward for his drink and suddenly becomes aware again of the people around him - the woman next to him, the bartender, the other customers. Realises he's in a public place and actually what a risk Renard took with that last sentence, one that could probably get him fired in the human world, who knew what in the Wesen world.

Nick sips his drink, counts sixty and sips again. Repeats this. His drink is finished. He pays the bartender without even noticing the amount, walks outside. The hotel is to the left, the route that would take him back to Monroe's is right. He turns left.

The hotel is the small boutique type. Nick walks confidently through the lobby and to the stairs, doesn't pause until he's standing outside room 25. The door is just ajar. Last chance to turn back. He goes in.

The room is dimly lit. Renard is standing, looking towards him. He has taken off his jacket and tie, undone another button on his shirt. As soon as Nick shuts the door and steps forward he closes the distance between them. It isn't soft or tender or gentle. The meeting of their mouths is hard, battling and clothes are pulled and tugged and removed as fast as they can. They suck and bite and wrestle and fight for dominance and they will have bruises tomorrow. And the release, hard hands on hard flesh, is too rushed, too fast, too much.

There is a long moment while they hold, both breathing hard, and Nick feels a strange sense of returning to himself, almost like waking or sobering up instantly. He's aware that Renard is still radiating tension, feels poised to run or fight again. And that's when everything changes, because suddenly Nick doesn't want to fight, doesn't want to be angry, doesn't want this to end now, like this. He shifts slightly,  
"Don't move."

Nick heads into the bathroom, his eyes dark-adjusted enough to find washcloths, towels. He washes and dries himself and then takes everything else back into the bedroom to clean up both bed and Renard, who accepts his ministrations without comment. He does however relax a little. Nick takes this as encouragement, lies on the bed, pulls Renard down and to him, wraps himself as close as he can. After a second Renard's arms move around him. It feels very warm, very...safe. Which is stupid.

They lie there for a few minutes without speaking, Nick occasionally turns his head, kisses whichever part of Renard's skin meets his lips. He's sure he should be really thinking 'Sean' after what they've just done but he can't quite bring himself to it, even in his thoughts. Renard's hands are stroking his back, his hair. He does feel he needs to say something though.  
"I was angry. I'm sorry."  
Renard's hands tighten,  
"You had a right to be. I will be ... pleased if we can get past that. Although I hadn't quite anticipated this would be the way to do it."  
Nick laughs, kisses again. Starts to kiss with rather more purpose.  
"We should do it again, just to make sure."

This, the second time, is different from the start. Renard strokes and kisses and caresses until Nick feels that every nerve ending is awake and desperate for Renard's touch. Nick does his best to return the favor. The feel of firm hands against his body, his own hands stroking hard muscle, the surprisingly soft skin. And when they are done they hold each other, fall asleep in each other's arms. Nick doesn't want to sleep, to lose this time held in Renard's arms in unconsciousness, but he can't resist.

When Nick wakes it's because Renard is moving away from him.  
"I'm sorry, I have to go. You stay here as long as you want, no one will disturb you."  
Nick pulls him back, kisses him one more time. Has to ask something that has puzzled him,  
"How come you had this room? Had you planned something like this?"  
He can see Renard smile,  
"This was definitely neither planned nor expected. This room is always available for me. Now go back to sleep."

Nick drifts, half asleep but aware of the sound of running water, Renard retrieving clothes, dressing. Renard comes back to the bed, touches his hair, leans down and kisses him gently, says something in French. Nick tries to catch the words but they are too quick, he doesn't know enough of the language. He's left with just the rhythm of the words.

It should make things more difficult between them but somehow it doesn't. Somehow there's an ease between them that hasn't been there before. They work together, particularly while Hank is on holiday and then when he comes back on crutches. Then there's Khloe Sedgwick, the musai, and that gives Nick a whole new appreciation of the power of enforced love and what happened between Juliette and Renard. And somehow from that he and Juliette end up back together. What happened between him and Renard becomes a memory only to be thought about in the quietest moments of the darkest nights. That and the rhythm of Renard's final words.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set between Hibernaculum and Mishipeshu in season 4

It happens partly because Renard is scared, at least that's what Nick decides later, when he knows about the bleeding, about Jack. Although it also happens thanks to Hank eating hard candy, a murder victim, a local cop keen to impress and the Mountain Mists Guest House.

Nick is contemplating going home, not that the prospect holds much attraction, when the call comes in. Yesterday he and Hank picked up a double homicide, prime suspect a well-known - and politically connected - local businessman. Also most likely Wesen, although Nick's not sure what kind. Now there's another body, one that would normally be well outside their jurisdiction except there's a clear possibility it's linked.

Nick puts the phone down and frowns, swings round in his chair to look across at the window. The rain is pouring down, it's late and Hank has disappeared off to his dentist with a painful broken tooth. Does he make the long drive out tonight or wait until morning? And if he waits until morning to go with Hank do they risk the political mess hitting the fan overnight? He's leaning back, weighing up the alternatives and idly watching Renard, head bowed over his paperwork, when he realises there's another option, one that might solve more than one problem. There are surely enough political implications that Captain Sean Renard can justify the ride out. They can take the Captain's big SUV and Renard can soothe any ruffled feathers amongst the local police if they do take over the case. And there has been some unease between them again lately, him and Renard. An unease that's once again probably because of Juliette. Maybe a chance to work together will help. Nick gathers up his files and heads for the office.

The rain is coming down in sheets, the sky heavy and ominous. By the time they reach the city limits Renard is having to concentrate hard on driving in the increasingly treacherous conditions, the wipers barely managing to clear the windshield. It's been a while since he and Renard have been alone together for this length of time and Nick is very aware of how close the big man seems in the confines of the car. It brings back the memory he only allows himself to replay on rare occasions, a memory that sometimes seems so distant and dream-like he half wonders if it really happened. He shifts slightly in his seat. Could Renard know where Juliette is, has she contacted him? But no, he doesn't want to think about Juliette now. He watches Renard's hands on the steering wheel instead, his large, elegant hands, capable of so much.

The crime scene is a house outside a small town on the road to Mount Hood, and as they climb the rain turns to sleet, then snow. Nick peers out the window,  
"This is starting to get heavy."  
Renard just grunts in return, looking for the turning. They pull on to the property and see the scene is taped up, a couple of local police officers standing nearby, huddled into coats and trying to find shelter under the eaves of the house. A truck with the ME's logo is still parked outside.

Nick and Renard look round the crime scene, around the house, talk to the local cops and the ME's assistant. There will need to be a full autopsy but there are enough clear similarities already to make it certain that the cases are linked and that they are looking for one killer, now with three victims. Renard makes some calls. By the time they go back outside they're all quite surprised by just how much snow has fallen. Nick knows they should head straight off but neither of them suggests it.

Renard is standing next to him as they watch the body being manoeuvred out. He has the collar turned up on his coat, hands thrust deep in his pockets, patrician profile brooding. He looks cold, probably is given he doesn't seem to have an ounce of body fat, and there is snow in his hair and and on his eyelashes. Nick finds this curiously compelling, keeps sneaking glances. Just as they are finally about to leave the local cop gets the radio message that a truck has jackknifed and the road to Portland is completely blocked. They aren't getting back there tonight. Nick is honest enough with himself to realise he's been hoping for this for the last half hour.

The ME's assistant has family nearby and the body can find a place at the local funeral home for the night so both are conveniently dealt with. The local policeman suggests a nearby bed and breakfast and, keen to show his efficiency and accommodate this city detective and his captain, he doesn't really give them time to discuss it before he's on the phone. They can hear him telling Mrs Reichel, owner of Mountain Mists, that a couple of out of town visitors are stranded and asking can she put them up. Before they know it the ME's assistant and the body have left for their respective beds and Sean is driving cautiously along behind the local cop, Nick again in the passenger seat.

Mountain Mists features more flounces, ornaments and knick-knacks in the first ten feet than seems physically possible. Mrs Reichel - 70 at a guess and who matches her home decoration - instantly goes into full flirtatious mode when she sees Renard. She's a mauzhertz, Nick can see her woging and he hangs back, keeps his head down so she doesn't spot him as a Grimm. This, the surrealism of the situation, the flounces, the gushing welcome, being here with Renard, means it's a moment before Nick realises what is actually being said. Mrs Reichel is telling them how lucky they were as she only has the one room left, it's a family room, it has two beds, she's sure they won't mind sharing. Without any conscious effort on either of their parts they will be spending the night in the same bedroom. Nick meets Renard's eyes, is fairly sure that now the same memory is in both their minds.

They follow the still-gushing Mrs Reichel upstairs. The room continues the decorative theme but it's warm and comfortable at least. Renard has an overnight bag and he places it on the large bed in the centre of the room, Nick has only the clothes he's standing up in so he leans by the door with his hands in his pockets as Renard assures Mrs Reichel they will be fine, negotiates a meal, somewhere to dry coats and boots.

They eat. Renard is doing a very good impression of a man forced to spend time with a distantly known work colleague, the conversation impersonal, no trace of any physical contact. Nick can understand it, there are other guests, the garrulous Mrs Reichel, but he knows Renard well enough to guess he's not quite as composed as he would like to appear. Nick follows the lead, tries to ignore how hard he is under the table. But when they get back to the room he is expecting ... something, although he doesn't quite know what. What actually happens is that Renard reaches into his bag, takes out a washbag and what looks like a t-shirt and disappears into the bathroom.

Nick's not sure what to do next so he resorts to the refuge of 21st century man, takes out his phone, leans against the dresser and looks at nothing in particular.

Renard emerges from the bathroom, wearing sleep pants and the t-shirt. Boy Scout, thinks Nick, not even Renard should have an entire emergency wardrobe in the trunk of his car.  
"I have a spare shirt you could borrow tomorrow if you want to sleep in the one you're wearing. I've left my stuff in the bathroom, use anything you need."  
Renard turns his back, picks up his own phone. Nick is starting to feel confused now so he goes into the bathroom, washes up.

When Nick comes back into the bedroom Renard is on the phone, talking in some non-English language that Nick can't identify. Russian maybe? Nick admires the view, broad shoulders, narrow hips, until Renard glances round at Nick, finishes the call. Okay, here goes. Nick walks up to him and puts his hand on Renard's back, strokes down the curve of his spine. He feels a tremor run through the other man's body, lifts his hand and strokes again. Renard turns, catches Nick's wrist, holds his hand away.  
"Don't, Nick."  
"Why not? I want it and you're lying if you say you don't, I can see you do. And we did before, it was good, it helped us."  
"That was nearly two years ago, there have been a lot of complications since then."  
"Like what?"  
"If I start listing them that's what we'll be doing all night, never mind anything else."  
Nick thinks Renard intended that sentence to come out lightly but actually it sounds immeasurably sad.  
"Tell me one. One thing that means we shouldn't do this when we both want to."

There is a long pause, Renard looking straight at him, hand still holding Nick's wrist. He opens his mouth to speak, shuts it again. And then his eyes drop,  
"Juliette came to me for help when she left you, not that I was much help. We..., I slept with Juliette."  
For a second Nick's mind goes blank. Renard with Juliette? Renard with hexenbiest Juliette?  
"Do you know where she is? Is she still with you? Are you still sleeping with her?"  
"No, no and no. And I regret what happened for many reasons, it was a moment of stupidity that will not be repeated."

Nick has no idea if he's angry with Renard for sleeping with Juliette or the other way round. And realistically neither has done anything wrong, let's face it, he has no claim any more on either's fidelity. And yet he's angry.  
"One night stands a speciality for you?"  
He pulls his hand away from Renard's grasp, turns around and walks to the bed against the far wall, gets in, rolls so his back is towards Renard. After a while he hears the sound of Renard moving to the other bed, the light goes off.

 

Nick is woken by a noise, a groan, a surge of movement on the other side of the room. He's got his hand on his gun and is half out of bed straightaway but he's still only in time to see Renard disappearing into the bathroom. As he's slept his anger has faded, he needs to talk to Renard, can't just leave things as they are. He gets back into bed but doesn't lie down, sits and waits.

It's a long time before Renard comes out and when he does he looks tired, haggard even. For some reason he's taken off his t-shirt, has it wadded tightly in one hand. Is he ill? He looks at Nick but doesn't seem to have the energy to say anything.  
Nick speaks,  
"I was angry, I'm sorry. And I know I said that last time too. Having to apologise seems to be my speciality."  
He moves across his bed as far as he can, lifts up the covers in invitation,  
Renard looks, thinks and eventually says,  
"This bed is bigger."  
And so Nick joins him there.

If the first time was anger and the second time was passion, this time is kind, gentle. Nick wonders later at the impulse that makes him treat his six foot four zauberbiest captain as though he is made of fragile glass, but knows it to be the right one. He kisses the warm lips, the dark, close cropped hair, down again to the strong jaw and the muscular column of the neck. Only when his fingers or lips stray near the scars on Renard's chest are his hands quietly pushed away, is his mouth encouraged elsewhere.

They sleep, as close as possible, sleep soundly. A Grimm and a Prince, secure in each other's arms.

Nick wakes first, prosaically needing the bathroom. He lies looking at Renard for a moment, watching him sleep. He's watched him sleep before, that night when he slipped into the hospital after Renard was shot (and not even Renard himself knows that, not unless his mother told him) but this is different. He looks younger, more open, his face relaxed and without its usual wariness . Nick gets out of bed, goes into the bathroom.

When Nick returns to the bedroom Renard is awake, leaning up on one elbow and looking him up and down appraisingly. Which is slightly embarrassing actually as Nick isn't wearing anything and the look, combined with thinking about last night, has an immediate and very obvious effect. Renard raises an eyebrow,  
"I presume I can take that as evidence you're not regretting our recent activities?"  
Nick grins back,  
"Does it look like it?"  
He climbs back into bed and proves his lack of regret with great enthusiasm.

 

As they leave Nick can almost see the weight descending back onto Renard, the man who laughed and loved such a short time ago disappearing under the police captain and whatever the hell else goes on his life. It's as though an exclusion zone is reinstated along with the shirt and tie. Nick wants to talk, really talk but it doesn't seem possible to start that conversation. They talk about the case instead - and Renard receives and makes a whole series of calls, smoothing the way for Nick and Hank to do their jobs, dealing with the political fallout, heading problems off at the pass. They talk about Nick's recent cases, the weird Wesen ones - the hibernaculum and the Varme Tyv, the bizarre, even by their standards, Huntha Lami Muuaji. But as they get closer to Portland silence descends.

They are nearly at the precinct when Nick finally bites the bullet,  
"Sean, where do we go from here?"  
Renard looks briefly surprised, maybe at the use of his first name, but after a pause he replies,  
"Do you really think we can go anywhere? It would hardly be ...easy."  
"Maybe though, if we wanted to, we could try. I know it would be complicated, that there are things between us but..."  
Renard interrupts, face set, eyes fixed on the road ahead,  
"Nick, think what you're saying. Think about Juliette. And I don't think I'm a good person for anyone to have a relationship with. What happened last night was ..."  
"Another mistake?" Nick can hear the edge of anger in his own voice.  
Renard's eyes find his, almost it seems against their owner's will. He sighs,  
"No, not a mistake."

Nick changes tack,  
"What did you say to me the last time? You know, in French."  
Renard glances round once more but doesn't answer, Nick can see him thinking what to reply.  
"You've left it too long to pretend you don't remember now. What did you say?"

And so Renard says it, the French words, incomprehensible but with the rhythm that has stayed with Nick all this time.  
"What does it mean? Can you say it in English?"  
Renard's hands tighten on the steering wheel and his response seems to hang in the balance. Finally he answers,  
"I can't Nick, I can't say it in English."  
And he looks so sad that Nick doesn't push it.

As they drive into the parking garage Nick turns in his seat,  
"I'm going to get this sorted with Juliette, one way or another. I'm going to spend every night looking for her, do everything I can. But I can't see how we can be together again, me and her. I loved her and it's my fault what happened so I owe her and I need to help her. And... and when that's done maybe things will settle down, get a bit simpler. Then I'm going to come back and ask you that question again."

They get out of the car and walk into the precinct side by side. But apart.

As they reach the top of the stairs Nick peels away and steps into the men's room. He checks quickly to see if anyone else is there and then pulls out his phone. He presses it a few times, holds the phone to his mouth and speaks into it. A short sentence, remembered as best he can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter starts with 'Headache' and finishes between 'Clear and Wesen Danger' and 'Lost Boys'. Although partly set in season 5 I don't think there are any major spoilers for these episodes. The 'Headache' section probably doesn't make much sense unless you've seen that episode - all the actions in that bit are canon, all Nick's thoughts my own!

It happens this time, well, who knows why it really happens. It seems like any chance, if there ever was one, has gone for them, blown out of the water by Adalind, by Juliette, by the Royals, by so much. So perhaps one reason is that neither of them can let it go without a farewell. Perhaps another is the handcuffs, maybe that's where it starts.

It's the handcuffs that really bother Nick. Oh, he knows they are probably a good idea but he resents them just the same, even resents Hank a little for putting them on. Bad enough for a proud, private man like Renard to find himself face down on a wet Portland street, put in the back of a patrol car, Hank looking at him with suspicion, Wu with more than a little fear, but being cuffed as well, that must hurt. Nick knows, knows absolutely, that there is something else inside Renard, something that could come back at any minute, something evil. But at the moment the man in the back of the car is Renard, scared, trying hard to hold it together, hands cuffed behind him.

Wu keeps casting nervous glances in the mirror, is talking too much, driving alternately too fast and too slow. When Nick turns in the passenger seat he can see the lights of Hank's car behind. He looks at Renard,  
"We're going to the Spice Shop. Monroe and Rosalee have something they think can help. It will be okay."  
Nick is torn between what he wants to say, what he mustn't say in case he ruins their plan, what he can't say with Wu sitting next to him. All he can do is hope that Renard will understand later. He keeps thinking about Rosalee telling them they have to assume that whatever Sean knows, Jack knows. What if he does, what if he knows that Renard means more to him than just his boss or some uncertain ally? It's hardly a worry he can share with the others - 'By the way did I mention that we slept together. Oh, and I think it was partly because of the phantom bleeding thing last time but also because we maybe care about each other'. No, he's going to have to pretend and hope.

When they arrive at the Spice Shop he walks in ahead of Renard to avoid meeting his eyes, hangs back as much as he can. But he can't see Renard stay handcuffed, walks behind him and undoes them. Has to fight not to touch, even for a second. There will be time after to explain.

It works, their pretence, the rubber bullets. And he can play his part, shoot with conviction because he can see it's Jack and not Renard he's firing at. But once Renard is on the floor he can't stay back. He rolls Renard over, feels for a heartbeat, sees whatever it is leave, like poisonous black smoke. And he can't help himself anymore, he reaches for Renard's hand, let the others think he's feeling for a pulse if they see. He holds it for a moment between both his own hands, still warm, familiar. And when Renard is finally on his feet he stands opposite, wants him to meet his eyes now, so that perhaps Renard will see in his face the things he can't say. If he and Hank offer to take him home perhaps Nick could suggest he shouldn't be alone, maybe suggest he stays?

And it's at that moment that Trubel arrives. And everything goes to hell.

The next two times he sees Renard the meeting is just long enough for Renard to tell him to go home and for Nick to get angry. And there's Adalind and Kelly and Chavez and Juliette and he thought Renard would help, not just keep sending him away. Maybe Adalind is right, she says Renard doesn't think about anyone but himself, maybe Nick was just deluding himself. And Kelly needs him, Adalind and Kelly.

He's not sleeping, not hardly at all. Tonight he watches Kelly for a while, watches Adalind sleep, but he's too restless to even think about going to bed himself. He checks the house once, twice, all the windows locked, doors secured. Patrol cars go past regularly, Renard has done that much at least. He needs somewhere safer, although how and where he'll find it he doesn't know, but for the moment this house is as secure as he can make it. He needs to get out for a while.

Nick drives, just watching the world, just for something to keep his mind and hands occupied. He drives past the precinct, past the bar where he met Renard, and the hotel next to it. And he drives past the place they took Renard down - or Jack, he supposes. Just past there he sees a patrol car pulled into the kerb, can see two uniformed officers with a man down on the floor. One is handcuffing him.

Nick does a u-turn, he knows where he's heading now.

There is still a light on at Renard's. Nick parks a little down the street, walks up to the house and presses the buzzer. After a pause there is the sound of locks turning and Renard opens the door, stands back without a word so Nick can come in past him.

The lamps are lit and there is a book and an empty glass on the table in front of the couch. For a second Nick resents this - Renard sitting in his comfortable house with his book and his drink while Nick's own life is all to pieces. But then he thinks how late it is and yet Renard is still up, fully dressed, and he notices that the book is called _Naming Jack the Ripper._ He picks the book up, looks questioningly at Renard.  
"I thought it might help to know more about it."  
"And is it helping?"  
"Not...appreciably."

Nick wanders round the room, looking at pictures. He's been here before of course, but there have always been more pressing concerns than the artwork. He's very aware of Renard watching him.  
"Why'd you keep sending me home?"  
"You needed the time to sort things out. And you needed to be away from the precinct."  
"And would you have suspended me?"  
"If needs be. But I didn't want to."  
There is a moment when neither speaks, Nick carries on round the room, looks at a portrait. Some long ago ancestor perhaps - or maybe Renard just bought the stuff to make the place look like his childhood home.

"Nick, if the FBI escalated the complaint against you people would start looking very closely - first at you and then they'd start looking at the department. I don't think there's ever a good time for an Internal Affairs investigation but now is definitely not it."  
"Not for you anyway."  
"Not for any of us. Not for me, you're right. But not for Hank - and I owe Hank a lot for how much he's helped cover up what Jack did, what I did. Definitely not good for Wu. Do you have any idea how hard I had to fight to get Wu back in his job, on active duty? Of course you don't. Internal Affairs look too closely at Wu, best case he's going to be in a desk job, worst case he's got no job and he's back in a psych ward."

Nick has circled back to the couch, picks up the book again. He opens it, turns a few pages. There are notes in the margins, in what he recognises as Renard's handwriting.  
"You know, what happened to you isn't that different to what happened to me with the zombie stuff. I wasn't in control of myself, killed someone, you all covered up. And I seem to recall that when I started feeling a bit too self-pitying about it all, you gave me a hard kick up the ass and told me to get over myself."  
"I'm not sure those were my exact words but point taken."  
They smile briefly at each other. Nick puts the book down, comes to stand in front of Renard,  
"It hasn't gotten any simpler, has it? Can't see when it's going to either."  
"I know. I knew that day in my office, when Adalind told you she was pregnant. I'm so sorry for everything, Nick, all that Adalind has done, what my family has -"  
Nick reaches his hand up to Renard's mouth, "Let's not waste time apologising." He slides his hand to Renard's shoulder,  
"One more for the road?"  
And pulls Renard down to him and into the kiss.

They have kissed in their previous encounters but not like this, standing together, focusing just on the feel of each other's lips. Nick does find it slightly odd to be the one tilting his head up but any strangeness is soon lost. They kiss first with gentleness, then with fire, with a need to remember how this feels.

Kissing is wonderful but eventually it isn't enough. They step apart, both slightly breathless. Renard looks around towards the stairs, holds out his hand. Nick takes it but doesn't immediately move, there is something he wants to say, to ask, but he doesn't quite have the words for it,  
"Captain -"  
Renard raises an eyebrow and Nick mentally kicks himself,  
"Sean. You aren't the first man I've ever been to bed with -"  
The eyebrow goes higher,  
"But there's something I've never done, never wanted or trusted someone enough to do it. I want to though, with you. I want to have that to remember."  
Renard reaches up, strokes Nick's cheek with his hand.  
"I would want to remember that too."  
And so they go upstairs to bed. And if, later on, Nick calls Sean 'Captain' again, well, the moment is far too intense for either to correct it.

Afterwards they are lying together, talking. Nick thinks he could sleep here, Sean's arm around him, his head on Sean's shoulder, but he doesn't want to. His fingers trace idle patterns on Sean's chest. And that had been a shock, the moment he took his shirt off. Nick had seen the scars disappear on Sean's chest, had expected smooth unblemished skin, had been horrified to find Sean's torso one mass of faded, yellowing bruises.  
"You used a lot of rubber bullets. I am just glad that you're all apparently quite good shots and didn't hit me any lower."  
Nick had tried to stumble his way through an apology but Sean had brushed it away,  
"I'm grateful, your plan worked and frankly I think time was running out. If Jack had completely taken over I suspect he would have enjoyed me knowing exactly what I was being forced to do and there would have been no escape. You saved me from that. A few bruises were a small price to pay."  
But Nick had still had to kiss the whole area, apologising to every inch of traumatised skin.

They talk, weirdly, about Hank. That would surprise him, thinks Nick. They talk about Nick's mother, the horror of finding her head, and he grieves again in the security of Sean's arms. They talk about Diana and Kelly, half sister and brother. They even talk about Adalind. Nick tells Sean about needing somewhere safe, somewhere he can leave Kelly and Adalind. Sean says thoughtfully,  
"I might know somewhere that would work - although I don't know how suitable it would be for a baby. Secure though, and nobody would need to know you were living there, no paper trail. It's an old warehouse, I can get you the keys, you can take a look. If you don't mind me knowing where you and Adalind live that is."  
Nick curls closer, kisses smooth skin. 'You and Adalind' isn't what he wants but it seems that, for Kelly's sake, it's all he can have.  
They talk about relationships. Nick tells Sean  
"You should try, there are plenty of people who'd be prepared to try with you. Next time someone comes along, someone you think you could like, maybe someone who's not a hexenbiest, give it a go, see what happens."  
And this time it's Sean who pulls him close, kisses him like he never wants to stop.

Nick leaves early enough that he can go back to the house, check on Kelly and Adalind before he goes to work. They hold, he and Sean, for a long time before he can find the courage to open the door and leave. Nick doesn't think he'll be back here again.

Later, at the precinct, he finds a set of keys and a note with an address and an alarm code in his top drawer. At least there will be this one link to Renard. He puts the keys in his jacket, goes to see what the place is like. His new home, his new home with Adalind and Kelly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in the future - sometime.

It happens this time because, well, this is how it happens...

Nick is packing the final bag, clothes mostly, things he'll need while staying at Hank's, when he gets to the shirt. It's a perfectly ordinary t-shirt: black, v neck, nice quality, a bit on the large side for him. He lifts it out, smooths the fabric. It's the one Renard lent him, the morning after they stayed at Mountain Mists. He's never worn it again but he never returned it either. Kept it as a reminder, a reminder of a promise he hasn't kept yet. He looks at it for a moment longer, then puts it into the bag with the last few items, pulls the zip across.

That's it. He looks around to check he has everything, heads down in the elevator. Not that many months ago he had a house, furniture, possessions. This time everything he's moving fits in the back of his truck. He puts the last bag in, drives out and walks back to lock the doors. Climbs in the truck, goes to throw the bunch of keys he's holding onto the passenger seat. Then looks at them and thinks - Hank's not expecting him until later, why not return them in person?

Nick knocks on the door frame of Renard's office, goes in. He's spent so little time with him lately it's almost a renewed surprise how big he is. Renard is standing over his desk, flicking through some papers. He turns round,  
"Nick. What are you doing here?"  
"I thought I'd bring these keys back, say thanks."  
Renard takes the keys, puts them in a drawer.  
Nick looks again, there is a bag at Renard's feet and he rather thinks there is a passport in the papers Renard is holding.  
"You going somewhere?"  
"Few days vacation."  
Nick looks at him. Tries to imagine Renard on vacation. He does look like he could do with one but Nick's not buying it.  
"Where you really going?"  
Renard stares at him thoughtfully,  
"Shut the door."

Renard hands him a file. The document on top is a newspaper article. The headline is 'Copycat Ripper in Santa Barbara" and the article links three recent murders, murders with a disturbingly familiar profile.  
Nick glances up at Renard,  
"You think this is him again?"  
"Yes."  
"And you're going to Santa Barbara to do what? "  
"Stop it, stop him. Once and for all.

Nick sits down in the chair, leafs through the copies of the police files - wonders mildly how Renard got them.  
"So, how you going to stop him?"  
"I've done a lot of research. The black smoke that came out of my mouth? Catch it in the right container and you've caught Jack, he's trapped. The trick is going to be getting him out of the ... host. "  
"And you think you'll be able to find this host?"  
"I think so."  
Nick ponders for a moment.  
"What about if Jack recognises you? As far as he knows you're dead, he doesn't know we tricked him. And what about if you're vulnerable now, what about if he can get into you again?"  
Renard sighs,  
"I have to try, Nick."  
"Well then, I'm coming with you."

They argue back and forth for a while but Nick is adamant. He thinks Renard is arguing just because he thinks he should. Nick agrees to leave his badge, his gun, any identification behind and suddenly Renard gives in. He makes a phone call, one that starts in French but then - deliberately, Nick thinks, so that he can understand - switches to English.  
"There's been a slight change of plan. I will be bringing a friend."  
There is clearly a question at the other end of the line. Renard looks at Nick,  
"Yes, a trusted one."

Nick gets his bag from the truck, rings Hank, follows Renard to an SUV, not the familiar police issue one. There are already bags in the trunk, more than might be expected of a trip of a few days. And Renard reaches into a bag, takes out a gun, same type as his police issue weapon, and hands it to him.

It's going to take them a while to drive to Santa Barbara, fourteen hours without any stops according to Nick's phone. Plenty of time to watch Renard as they drive. Plenty of time to think.

Nick has tried, he really has. Tried to have a normal relationship, a normal family in a life that is anything but normal. Nick doesn't want to listen to gossip, not least because he knows he's been a subject of a lot of it himself, but he knows the Captain tried too. It hasn't worked, not for either of them.

They stop for a break just south of Medford, get something to eat and drink. It's when they're back in the SUV, back on the road, that Nick voices a suspicion that has been growing.  
"You're not coming back after this, are you? You have a lot of bags packed, a passport, maybe more than one."  
Renard looks at him. Nick shrugs,  
"I am a detective."  
They drive another ten miles before Renard answers.  
"You - all of you - managed to fool Jack into thinking I was dying. That might not work a second time and I don't think there will be chance for anything so complicated. Whoever he's possessing, I will have to kill them to get him out. And this will not be Portland, I may not be able to cover up what I've done. And maybe it's time for a new life, another life anyway. The one I have hasn't worked out too well."  
Nick thinks about what Renard has said,  
"And you're okay with that, with killing whoever it is?"  
"It's a better alternative than being possessed. Nick, do you know why I agreed to you coming? Because if you're right, if I'm vulnerable to being possessed by Jack again, if that happens, you have to kill me. And you're the one person I trust to do that.

They don't talk much for the next few miles.

When they finally reach Santa Barbara they head for the train station. Nick looks around, it's early morning but people are out and about in the sunshine in shirtsleeves, there are white stucco houses, red tiled roofs. Palm trees. It looks a nice place, not very Jack the Ripper. But he can see the tension in Renard. He makes another phone call, all in French, this one.

They pull up at the station and a man gets in the back seat, nods briefly to Nick and starts giving directions. They end up in a non-descript suburban street - nice, tree lined, mostly single story homes - and the man directs Renard into a driveway. They climb out of the car, go into the house. At which point the man turns and bows very deeply to Renard.  
"You don't have to bow, Mathias."  
"Yes, I do. You're the rightful heir to Frederick. Plus I've known you since we were seven and I can do what I like."  
And much to Nick's surprise he hugs Renard.

The man - Mathias - gives Renard a pile of paper: copies of police files, autopsy reports, all the official documentation relating to the three murders. He also gives him another gun, a knife, papers that Nick can't see clearly. And then he says 'good luck' and is gone.

They read the case notes and Nick has to agree with Renard - this is the same entity. He assumes it's only because the Portland killer was officially caught that no-one has been in touch with them. But there seem to be no suspects. How the hell are they going to find him? And what do they do once they have? Renard answers the second question at least.

He gets a bag and takes from it a funnel that looks to be made of leather and a box. The box is intricately carved with symbols, made of some pale wood, narrow pieces joined together. Except that when Nick touches it, it's not wood. He looks questioningly at Renard,  
"It's made of bone. I made it"  
"Human bone?"  
"Yes."  
"Where did you get human bone from?"  
"Probably better not to ask."  
Nick decides he won't ask about the leather funnel either.   
  
"Okay, so we catch this guy, get Jack to leave, use the funnel to direct the smoke into the box, shut the lid. That's it? Wish we'd known that last time."  
"It's taken a lot of research to find something that would hold him. And a lot of time and ... considerable effort to make the box."  
"But how do we find him, find Jack."  
Renard looks like he did that night, the night they got Jack out of him. Scared, thinks Nick.  
"I''ll be able to find him. I'm probably the first person who has ever lived after being possessed by him. But I'm not free of him. I knew when he came back, I'll know him when he's near. It might take a while but we'll find him."

They get some sleep - the house has two bedrooms and they use both. They eat. And as darkness falls they get in the SUV and start to tour Santa Barbara - Nick driving, Renard looking. It doesn't seem like a town that will have much of a red light district but like anywhere it has darker corners.

They've been driving for a while and it's well after midnight when Renard suddenly stiffens, on alert like a hunting dog.  
"He's near."  
They are by the ocean, and Nick pulls the car over. Renard's out fast, almost scenting the air. Sets off walking quickly, Nick has to jog a few steps to keep up.

They enter a narrow lane, not wide enough for a car, a short cut to the houses standing above them. There is enough light to see a man and a woman locked in an embrace. The man is big, not as tall as Renard but broader, heavier set. He's got the woman pushed against the wall, kissing her roughly. Renard and Nick both have guns out, approach. Suddenly Renard shouts,

"Jack."  
The man spins away from the woman, comes at them fast, sees the guns, stops. Nick has his gun trained on him, finger poised in the trigger. The woman, who was standing frozen, starts to sidle along the wall and Nick moves across slightly to let her get away. And as she comes towards him Renard swings around and shoots her, once, twice, three times.

The man runs past, is gone. Renard moves to the woman on the floor, blood blossoming across her chest. He kneels down next to her, turns her head. Nick, still stunned, moves behind him. This is Jack? Or has he just watched Renard kill another innocent woman?

The woman opens her eyes, breathing hoarse. She looks at Renard, lifts her hand and says,  
"You."  
And Nick knows that Renard wasn't mistaken. This is Jack, in this ordinary looking woman.  
"You tricked me, you and your friends. But you can't escape from me, you already know that, don't you Sean? Enjoy your life - because when you die I'll be there waiting for you."

The woman's eyes fall shut, blood comes from the corner of her mouth and then her mouth opens slightly, a wisp of something black and poisonous.  
"Now, Nick."  
Nick reaches forward, presses the funnel over her mouth, Renard holds the open box above the funnel. They wait for a moment.  
Renard snaps the box lid across, straightens. Nick moves the funnel away.  
"Is that it? Is he - it - in the box?"  
Renard holds the box up. It's now jet black.

The woman lying on the floor makes a noise, a gasp, and they both turn to her again. There is a lot of blood, across her chest and on her face. She looks straight up at Renard, tries to say something, tries again,  
"Thank you."  
And she dies.

Renard turns to Nick,  
"You need to get away from here-"  
But Nick isn't listening, he's staring at the woman,  
"Look."  
Renard looks and they watch together as the blood disappears from her face, the stains on her shirt get smaller and smaller, vanish completely. Cautiously Renard lifts her shirt. There is no sign of any blood, any wound at all.

They stand looking for a while until Renard eventually says,  
"Go and put the guns and the box in the car, then come back here."  
"What are you going to do?"  
"I'm going to call 911, tell them we've found a woman's body."

The woman's name was Norah Hartside. Three months before she'd suffered an aortic aneurism, flatlined but been revived. She'd held an office job, lived an ordinary life until then. When she was released from hospital she'd quit her job, cut off contact with all her friends, been cautioned for an assault, apparently unprovoked, on a young woman. The autopsy will find she has suffered another aneurysm, no sign of bullets or a shooting.

They find out most of this later. Tonight they are questioned by a local officer, surprised to find out they are both in law enforcement. He does ask them what they are doing in Santa Barbara. When Renard says they are on vacation the officer says, "Together?" in a surprised tone. Nick slips his hand into Renard's, holds the officer's eye until he shrugs and moves on.

They drive back to the house, walk in. Renard puts the box on the table, sits looking at it.  
"What are you going to do with it?"  
"Put it somewhere very dark and deep where no-one is ever going to find it."  
"And he's gone. You're really free from him?"  
"Yes."  
Renard bows his head, Nick looks at the dark hair, sees his shoulders heave. And realises that Renard is trying very hard not to cry. He crouches down next to him, pushes his arms around the bigger man and holds as tight as he can. After a second Renard turns, holds back. Nick kisses him, his lips, his cheek, his hair. Holds him as he finally breaks, holds him as he cries.

Eventually Renard quietens. Nick stands up, holds out his hand and draws him towards the couch, sits him down, sits next to him.

Nick knows what he wants, what he's wanted for so long. What he's pretended he didn't want because he thought he couldn't, other people thought he shouldn't. But he knows. Knows it will be right and it will be good. Because there is no other person in the world but this man who can understand the life he has, who he is, the worlds he bridges. No other person who arouses him, touches him like this one. No other person who needs him quite so much.

"What now, Sean? You don't need to leave, no one thinks we had anything to to with that woman's death. You can come back to Portland."  
"And what's there for me, Nick? You know, I used to be, not happy maybe, but content. I had enough money, influence. But now, it all just seems empty, everything I've touched. I don't have to go but maybe I should, try something, somewhere else."  
"Another life?"  
"Yes."

"Sean, do you remember what you said to me, in French, the night we spent in the hotel? You said it again, when we drove back after staying at Mountain Mists."  
"I do ... remember."  
"And I said that when life was simpler I'd ask you to say it again, in English. It's never going to get simpler, my life, your life, but I don't think it really matters how complicated it is. So say it now."  
"Nick, I can't, there's no way we can-"  
"I know what you said already, what you said to me in French. I remembered it, translated it. Now say it to me, in English."  
"Nick -"  
"Say it, Sean, say it."  
He's right up to Renard's face, almost shouting. He can see the struggle, Renard fighting against it, fighting because even now he doesn't think he deserves it.  
"Say. It."  
And so finally Renard does,  
"In another life -", he takes a deep breath, "In another life I would have loved you."  
"And that is a lie, Sean, maybe it was even that very first time." Nick really is shouting now, hands gripping Renard's arms. "It is a lie because you love me in this life. And I love you. You don't need another life, to leave Portland. You need this life, with me."  
There is a moment of shocked silence and then Nick repeats in a much softer voice,  
"I love you."  
They look at each other. After a moment Sean squares his shoulders, his face determined, and Nick watches, hopes, as Sean steps over the final hurdle,  
"I love you, Nick. I do love you in this life, no matter how complicated that might be. I love you."

Sean seems ... stunned, stunned by happiness, tells Nick he loves him again and again, as though the words held back for all those years are tumbling from him now. Nick leads him to the bedroom, undresses him, guides him to the bed. Nick touches Sean's face gently, as though seeing with his fingers, the beautiful bones of his face, the strong nose, the warm lips. He gazes into the green eyes, sometimes so guarded, so hidden but now warm and trusting. He kisses down to the muscles of chest and stomach, strokes his fingers across the places where Sean was shot, smooth and healed. He kisses Sean's hands, he's always loved his hands, long fingers, capable, elegant.  
Nick moves further down, strokes, kisses. He has never been a man who wanted power and this will be all the power he will ever crave, having Sean in his hands, his mouth, hearing him make those sounds, making the big body shudder with pleasure.

They fall asleep, and for the first time Nick doesn't resent spending time in Sean's arms asleep. Because this time is different. They will be together tomorrow, and the next day and the day after that. In fact he intends to fall asleep in Sean's arms every night he possibly can.

*******

The drive back to Portland is very different to the drive south. They talk, about nothing, about everything. They stop for no reason other than that they can't go any further without touching each other. They laugh and Nick isn't sure he's ever heard Sean laugh out loud before, wants to hear it again.

As they get nearer Portland, Sean asks,  
"Nick, how are we going to do this?"  
"The way people usually do, I guess. We tell our friends, we tell work. We tell the people who aren't friends but who need to know. I have all my stuff in the truck, I drive to your house instead of Hank's. And I sleep in your bed instead of on Hank's couch. We live together, love each other, have fights, make up. We learn what we both like to eat, what we both like to do. Plus we deal with Wesen together when it's needed, keep the peace, watch each other's backs against people who would harm us. I think that about covers it."  
Sean smiles, reaches across for his hand.

Nick calls Hank, who sounds less surprised than Nick had anticipated. Everyone else can wait until tomorrow. He and Sean get his truck and then he follows Sean, follows him home. This life, another life, their life together.

_Dans une autre vie, je vous aurais aimé  
In another life, I would have loved you._


End file.
